The nanny has gone and I’ve been triggered – it’s like another death

I’ve been ghosted by the kids’ nanny; she won't respond to my texts or phone calls. After four years? Not even a goodbye? All that is left is a burgundy dressing gown and a few leggings. It’s very triggering. When all you have left are a few clothes and the person has vanished into thin air – like Roseanna has just done – it’s like another death. It’s just how I felt when Alex died. I was left with all his designer shoes and snazzy clothes but he was gone. It’s the strangest feeling. 

It’s all coming back to me as it’s the six-year anniversary of his death this week. When I tell a new mum friend at Lola’s primary school that we are going to light a candle for Alex, she looks a bit confused about the time frame.  “So did he ever meet them?” she asks with a perplexed look, realising it would have been impossible. That’s when I have to explain that Lola and Liberty were conceived after his death via IVF. 

I add: “Liberty was in a freezer in Russia for two years in embryo form.” 

“Liberty?” she says, utterly shocked. “Yes,” I say. “That’s so weird,” she says. “My two-year-old is called Liberty too!" No! How is it possible? Apart from a supermodel and of course the Statue of Liberty, I have never come across it. 

It’s pouring with torrential rain – the gloomy weather matches my mood – so we can’t chat for long, but at least I’ve broken the ice on that topic. It’s nice to have an ally at the school gates. Somebody who knows the score. But secretly, I’m welling up with grief – for all my upbeat courageous talk, I feel a deep well of sadness. 

What would we have done if he had died now, given that only 30 people can attend a funeral due to coronavirus? Had a zoom event? Or an online cremation that is more like a webinar because it’s one way; you can’t see any guests apart from those in the church. Would Muggles have still led the funeral procession or would he have been included in the headcount? 

The feelings and memories come like a wave – and then subside. It’s all made worse because of Roseanna’s sudden departure. I feel hurt. I’ve heard of being dumped by text – but she didn’t even do that? Who even knew it could get any lower? 

I ring her mum to check she is not a missing person. “I don’t know what her problem is, Charlotte. She is still in Manchester. I can’t get hold of her.” “Is she coming back today?” I ask in a panic. “No, I don’t think so.” 

I have to think fast. My only option is to employ the dog walker to do the childcare. She’s not qualified, but then neither am I. Lola’s at school, so that is easier. Then a mum friend sends me over a childminder to help out in the mornings but she has to bring her three-year-old with her. Soon my flat is turning into a nursery school while I’m locked in the spare room working. Great, at least it’s a playdate for Liberty, but I walk in and they have their hands around each other's throats and all I can hear is screaming. It’s strangely liberating. A change is as good as a rest.

But why couldn’t Rosanna let me know? Is it too painful for her to leave Lola and Liberty or is it more like a jailbreak? Am I still a witch to her – as I once found myself called in her phone contacts?

 The scenario keeps playing in my mind like a broken record. I look around her room and find a bag of old rice among the few clothes she left. “Is that a goodbye message?” I wonder. I google it: rice can be a symbol of good luck and prosperity. But I come back to my senses; the jumbo pack is just too massive to fit in the kitchen cupboard. She’s gone – get over it. 

Perhaps Rosanna is having a breakdown? She did seem depressed. None of it makes sense – as was the case when Alex died. He had been a whirlwind of enthusiasm the week before it happened, getting tons of portraits to paint. He wasn’t back to his normal self by any means but a renewed zest was in the air. Then bang – he was dead. 

I never saw him again. He had dipped into a bad place for a few days but I thought it was just a blip. What the hell had happened? In the past, he’d make mistakes – and I would generally rescue him – but now, there was no coming back.